Mistletoe Maneuvers by Margaret Allison Page B

away.
    â€œActually, no. I was shooting for a good listener or cook, but I’d be more than happy with bedroom skills.”
    They walked back into the bungalow and shut the door. The air-conditioning was off and the room felt likean oven. She turned on the air conditioner and said, “This is going to be one long evening.”
    â€œDo you want to shower first or should I?”
    â€œGo ahead,” she said, sitting on top of the air-conditioner vent. “I’m set for a while.”
    Her long, slender legs were splayed out before her. The other bathing suit strap fell down. His eyes grazed down her neck and onto her bare shoulders. He swallowed and attempted to look in the other direction, then yanked off his shirt.
    â€œYou’re not going to get undressed right here, are you?” she asked.
    â€œNo.” In fact, he wasn’t thinking about undressing himself, but her. What the hell was going on here? This was a business relationship. She was Alessandra Lawrence, the chairman of the board. The one who had fired him.
    So why did he want to rip off her suit and take her right on the bed? Because Alessandra Lawrence just happened to be a beautiful woman. He always suspected as much, of course. But with her conservative suits and reserved manner, he’d never seen her as anything more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He’d had her pegged as an uptight prude. He had not expected a spirited and feisty athlete. Nor had he ever expected her to look so good in a string bikini.
    But there was something else that gave him pause. She had a quality, a way about her. There was a spark there. A connection. But whatever it was, it needed to be ignored. She was off-limits. Forever and always. This whole thing was make-believe. And he needed to keep it that way.
    He let the freezing cold water of the shower poundagainst him as he shut his eyes, trying not to notice his body’s reaction to the woman just outside the door.
    Â 
    What had she gotten herself into? She was alone in a hotel room, ogling Rick Parker. She was—God help her—attracted to him. But how could she help it? They had spent the afternoon playing boyfriend and girlfriend. She had run her fingers over his raw muscles, felt the power of his kiss. And now here she was, only one closed door away from a naked Rick.
    But, she attempted to reassure herself, it was normal, completely normal, that she feel some sort of attraction. After all, he was a good-looking man. Very good-looking. And she had a history with him. Like she had told Sabrina, she had suffered a painful crush.
    But she couldn’t allow herself to get confused. He was a business associate and that was all, one whom she did not even like. So why did a part of her wish that perhaps they were truly lovers? Why did a part of her wish that all their kissing and cuddling could lead to something else?
    She would simply block it from her mind. She closed her eyes. Just breathe, she told herself. And again…
    But she couldn’t stop thinking about Rick. She remembered overhearing a conversation about him in the ladies’ room a while ago. A woman in a neighboring stall had apparently known someone whom Rick had dated. Not realizing that Lessa was in the bathroom as well, the woman had said to her friend, “She said Rick told her on their first date that he didn’t want any commitment.”
    â€œSo what happened?” the other woman had asked.
    â€œShe slept with him anyway,” the woman had said.
    â€œDid he call her after that?”
    â€œNope. She was disappointed, of course. You know how it is. We all want to believe we’re ‘the one.’ But she said it was worth it. She said he’s great in bed.”
    â€œGreat in bed?”
    â€œBetween you and me,” the woman said, “I made a pass at him right after that.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œHe said no. He was very nice about it, but he said we work together.